


And I Only Have Eyes for You

by someoriginalusername



Series: I Will Go With Him I Love [1]
Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: All in that order, Brutal Murder, Flirting, Horniness, M/M, No Porn, Origin Story, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:47:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22905721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someoriginalusername/pseuds/someoriginalusername
Summary: Victor Zsasz may have looked like he rolled out of bed and into a garbage bin, and dressed like he wanted someone to say something about his attire, if only to gut them, but something about the close cropped bleached hair, and the confidence in his brash clothing that stood out from the rest of Maroni's lackeys, suddenly had Roman interested.Just a little. The aura of danger was enticing, maybe he'd at least be able to get laid tonight.
Relationships: Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz
Series: I Will Go With Him I Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646680
Comments: 6
Kudos: 173





	And I Only Have Eyes for You

**Author's Note:**

> title is from I Only Have Eyes For You by The Flamingos
> 
> also I made a playlist for them if yall are interested https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4sq1eUXCWA1O20HfWZyUGo?si=IqMFFvO3SWWLut7R2PazkA

Roman abhorred everything about this place. From the tacky interior design that reflected Party City more than an actual vintage disco club, to the nauseating music that Gotham’s Most Wanted seemed to be enjoying. The air was so clammy that he had to use the delicately placed handkerchief in his breast pocket to wipe off the moisture from his forehead. He wanted to throw up, or scream, or both. However, being recently disgraced from his father’s empire left him with little to no options in terms of staying on his feet, therefore he remained in the corner of this nightmare of a club, sipping his poorly mixed martini, and thinking about how he would kill to be anywhere else at this moment.

He entered the club expecting the usual uproar of applause that came from the people he had secretly been doing business with for the past five years, having gained their approval and respect through his ruthless business tactics, as well as his money, but was not entirely surprised by the blank stares and even glares he received from the scatter of criminals. Without his father’s money, he was as good as useless. He attended the party knowing that Gotham’s most notorious crime bosses would be in attendance solely to save face, and maybe even interest one of them in his plans to open his own club. He originally began dealing with them out of boredom, but as his popularity amongst them grew, so did his hunger for power. It went from mindless gambling to cutthroat business deals, all right under his father’s nose. That is, until it wasn’t.

His father was furious, understandably, as these connections could tarnish his immaculate reputation. However, Roman had planned on telling his parents about his outside deals, if only to convince them that it would benefit them in terms of business and strengthen their family’s influence in the city, but they did not care. They wouldn’t listen; they never did. Anything that threatened their precious status as Gotham’s (second) most beloved socialites would simply be removed from the equation, even if it was their own son.

It’s not like they ever did care about him, favoring the fame and fortune of owning one of Gotham’s largest corporations over the needs of their son. However, the humiliation of having his own blood publicly disown him was enough for him to see red, which led to one memorable incident in which he utterly destroyed his father’s office, leaving promises to have the heads of everyone involved (and anyone within his range, really) as decor for his mantelpiece. He didn’t regret it, as the looks of unadulterated horror on his parents’ faces left him nearly intoxicated with power. If he was being honest, he had never felt more alive than when he had his own mother cowering in fear. It was simple; if they couldn’t love him, then they would fear him. 

Roman's train of thought was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. He looked up from the corner of the wall he realized he had been staring at for god knows how long, to find a short, ratty looking man smirking at him.

"Mr. Sionis, Mr. Maroni sends his regards," the blonde man said, offering him a martini glass.

"Yeah, well you can tell him where to stick it," he replied bitterly, not liking the manic look in the other's eyes. 

He recognized him as one of the crime boss's lap dogs, having seen him once or twice during business meetings. He had always stared unnervingly from across the room, with tonight being no exception. Half an hour after Roman arrived, he was starving for the spotlight that he was so used to being given at these types of events. He had half a mind to cross over to the bar and indulge the creepy man in whatever fucked up conversation he pleased. What stopped him was the piercing gaze; the dead eyes that somehow felt that it could see into your very soul and could thus rip you apart with it. It made his skin crawl. 

The shorter man only grinned. "Alright, then." He said before shooting back the whole drink in one go. He then walked over to stand next to Roman, leaning against the wall and leaving a space between them; not leaving him alone, like what he thought was implied that he wanted in his statement. He gawked at the gall of the man. 

"The name's Victor Zsasz," the clearly insane man said, looking away as if uninterested; like Roman didn't feel the heat of his gaze on him all night.

Torn between biting his tongue and walking away, and giving in to the sudden attention he was so desperately yearning for, Roman opted to just glare at him. 

He knew this of course, everyone who was anyone in this line of business did. Victor Zsasz was one of the most lethal weapons amongst Gotham’s underground. Notoriously batshit, everyone knew to stay on his good side. There was talk about his ruthless predatory nature, the way he views any and everyone as prey, and was always looking for his next victim. Roman hadn’t given him much thought, apart from when he silently judged the man’s choice of clothing. It wasn’t entirely awful, it just could be better. Roman then gave him the once-over, appreciating the neatness of his outfit, but raising his brow at the choice of the multi-coloured bowling shirt.

At Roman’s silence, the other man turned towards him and offered another wolfish grin when he caught him glancing. Roman barely contained a shutter at the cold look in his eyes, and looked away.

“Sorry to hear about your family,” Zsasz offered, his soft voice mirroring his lax demeanor, but it somehow managed to increase Roman’s level of unease.

Roman made a face of disgust, and continued to stay silent. When the blonde man turned towards him again to try to speak, Roman cut him off.

"What are you doing? Did Maroni send you here to annoy me all night? Was the public humiliation not enough, I need to die of irritation too?" He seethed, as he sent him a glare that would have typically left those on the receiving end running. Not Zsasz, though. The shorter man grew even more amused and shuffled closer, leaning a shoulder onto the wall. 

"No, actually. He said to keep an eye on you, and you seem lonely." Roman felt like squirming under the man's gaze.

"I am perfectly alright, thank you very much." Roman huffed. "Don't you have a hobo to scalp or something?" He continued, lacing his tone with enough acid to give the other man a hint.

This again seemed to make his interest grow, as he leaned in a fraction closer. His voice lowered into a soft murmur.

"He also said to not interact with you under any circumstance outside of the job." 

This brought Roman to finally meet his eyes, "So why did he send you over with a drink?"

The man smirked, "he didn't." 

At Roman's dumbfounded look, his smirk grew into a grin. He then stepped away and made his way to the bar. Roman gaped at the man as he strode away. 

Roman had soured his own mood, but the sudden attention that was so clearly dripping with intent piqued his interest. Now that he knew Maroni didn't send him over to taunt him, he began to loosen up. Victor Zsasz may have looked like he rolled out of bed and into a garbage bin, and dressed like he wanted someone to say something about his attire, if only to gut them, but something about the close cropped bleached hair, and the confidence in his brash clothing that stood out from the rest of Maroni's lackeys, suddenly had Roman interested.

Just a little. The aura of danger was enticing, maybe he'd at least be able to get laid tonight.

The blonde man returned, stirring Roman out of his thoughts, with two new drinks; another martini, and what looked like scotch on the rocks. He accepted the martini and finally turned to face him.

"Is this where you say, 'you come here often?'" Roman said, doing a playful voice to let him know that his plans have changed.

Victor laughed, noticing the change of demeanor. It softened his eyes.

"I would except, I already know you wouldn't be caught dead here if you weren't in such a dire situation." 

Roman barely stifled a flinch, that he knew the other man picked up. He groaned dramatically and turned away, taking a hefty sip of his drink.

"Yeah, that is about the last thing I want to discuss right now," he replied in a clipped tone. 

"I can see that, but they completely fucked you over. Hard. I don't blame you for coming out here to maintain the last of your authority, if anything I applaud you. That takes balls." 

Roman clenched the glass in his hand as hard as could. The last thing he needed was a ruined pair of gloves, on top of this.

"Are you mocking me?" he asked in his most menacing tone, not caring about who he was talking to, "Because that wouldn't be such a good idea right now," he said, stepping into his space. If Zsasz was fazed by the threat, and his sudden change in attitude, he didn't show. He continued on.

"Not at all. Never. I respect you too much,” Zsasz said, facing him head-on. He looked at him with complete sincerity, which threw Roman off. Annoyance replaced his rage as he struggled to get a read on the assassin.

“Well then what the fuck are you playing at? We only just met tonight, how do I know you’re not here to play some fucked up mind games on behalf of your boss?”

“Fuck Maroni,” Zsasz huffed as he placed his barely touched drink on the ledge behind him, “I only do his dirty work because he pays me, but he’s a moron. Has no respect for anyone in the game but himself. He’s in it for nothing but the money, which would be excusable if he was half as capable as you are,” each word out of his mouth was said with such conviction that Roman’s head began to swim.

“I’ve been watching you, I’ve seen your potential. You could have the entire city in the palm of your hand, yet these idiots cast you aside like you’re nothing. Like you’re not Roman fucking Sionis, one of the most powerful men in Gotham. Fuck your parents, you don’t need them, and you don’t need these assholes. You can build your own empire and show everyone here that you’re not the man to fuck with.”

Roman was stunned into silence. He knew all of this already, of course. He just had yet to meet anyone else smart enough to see his true potential. All of this coming from a henchman, who, previous to this, had done nothing more than openly gawk at him from afar left him skeptical, but he allowed himself to visibly relax. There was still no way of knowing if this was all a ploy to screw him over in the end, but if it was, the assassin was very convincing. He took another sip from his drink.

“Well,” he chuckled after a long moment, “you sure do know how to make a guy feel special. Do you talk to all of your recently disgraced millionaires like this?”

Victor gave him a suggestive smile, and picked up his drink, “Only those that show up to this shit-hole in a custom made Givenchy suit,” he said, before taking a sip of it while holding eye contact.

“Mmm,” Roman hummed and leaned into his space, “more of that, less talk about my parents. I will walk right out of here.”

"No, you won't,” Victor said resolutely, the playful smirk still on his face.

“Oh yeah?” he said amorously, turning his charm back on, “What makes you so sure?”

"I was told to make sure you don’t.”

Roman’s expression fell, “I thought you said you weren’t on the job.”

Zsasz finished his drink, then placed the empty glass on a table, “I didn’t, I said Maroni didn’t send me over, which he didn’t. As a matter of fact, he’s pissed that we’re even talking,” Roman looked around, and found the old man on a couch across the room, glaring at them while another one of the higher ups spoke in his ear. He looked murderous. Roman immediately became defensive, but before he could turn to absolutely throttle the blonde man, Zsasz pulled himself in completely, and whispered; “Watch this.”

Before Roman could react, Zsasz pulled out a glock that was hidden in the back of his slacks, cocked it, and fired at Maroni’s men. One by one they went down as the assassin strode towards his boss. As panic broke out in the club, Roman watched on as Zsasz proceeded to take out almost every major crime boss in this side of Gotham city and their henchmen. He was in awe.

By the time he got to Maroni, everyone who wasn’t in the line of fire had fled, or were lying in their own blood on the floor. When he approached his boss, instead of shooting him dead right there, he brandished a knife from a holster on his calf, and grabbed him by the scalp. He roughly yanked his head back as he stalked behind the couch and brutally thrust the knife into his shoulder. At Maroni’s scream, he lugged it out, and proceeded to ruthlessly gouge it into his chest repeatedly. As the man began to gurgle in his own blood, Zsasz looked up at Roman, then proceeded to holler energetically towards the security cameras;

“A gift to Luigi 'Big Lou' Maroni, courtesy of Roman Sionis!" he then dislodged the knife from the man’s chest, brought it to his neck, and sliced it open with slick precision.

Absolutely taken by the whole affair, Roman began to move towards Zsasz just as he shoved Maroni’s corpse to the floor. Roman moved carefully, avoiding getting his shoes dirty from the bloodshed, and paced towards where Victor was cleaning his knife with a cloth he procured from his back pocket. He was covered in blood, and was breathing harshly due to the acceleration, and Roman had never before seen anything so beautiful. Before he could say something, Victor spoke up.

“He was the one who tipped your father off about the business deals. I found out four days ago,” as Roman processed this, he continued, “he told me to kill you tonight, but I made the executive decision to tell him to go fuck himself.”

“And what a way to do so,” Roman finally said, breathlessly, looking at the carnage surrounding him. When he was done cleaning the knife, Victor reloaded the glock, and offered it to Roman. 

Roman took it, admiring the heaviness of it as he rolled it around with his wrist. He then aimed it at Luigi Maroni’s corpse, and fired two more shots. One to the spine, and one to the head. It wasn’t the first time he had fired a gun, but it was the first time it ever felt liberating. He reached out to hand it back to Victor, who looked shocked to be given it back. He huffed a laugh, and took it before striding to his side. 

Roman was going through a rapid cycle of emotions, but it all dissipated when he turned to face Victor, who wore a look of both satisfaction and admiration. He looked at peace, and Roman could hardly breathe.

“We should get out of here,” Victor began, “the pigs know not to patrol this side of town, but no doubt they’re on their way.” Roman nodded, not being able to process anything but the blood splatter all over the man. 

“As for his connections, they’re going to be pissed, but they all know this was a long time coming. Besides, some of the other men were absent on purpose.” He paused, inching towards Roman. “They’re preparing for their new leader.” Roman stood there, still enraptured by the blood on the man’s face. He nodded again, then gestured at his own mouth. 

“You’ve got some here,” he said, before reaching behind the man to grab the already bloodied cloth, using what little clean spots were left to wipe the blood off the other man’s lips. The air between them was stifling, in a far more alluring way than it was before. Right before he was about to lean in to capture his lips with his own, the repulsive smell of Victor’s brilliant display finally processed in his brain. He stepped away, finally awoken from his spell.

“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing the other man’s wrist, “it smells fucking disgusting in here.” 

As he steered them out of the club, towards the direction in which his driver would be waiting, he couldn’t help but grin like a maniac, anticipating his bright future as one of Gotham’s most powerful crime lords.


End file.
